


sunrise

by devoraq



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Breakfast, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Kitchen Sex, Morning Sex, tbh when will asra arcanagame eat me out within an inch of my life irl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-25 22:41:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12542852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devoraq/pseuds/devoraq
Summary: Early mornings have never been your strong suit, but when Asra wakes up before the crack of dawn to prepare a fantastical breakfast, no force on earth short of Asra himself can keep you in bed. This is one of those mornings.





	sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> In This House We Love And Appreciate Asra Arcanagame  
> (and the stove salamander)
> 
> my tumblr is [@devoraq](http://devoraq.tumblr.com), feel free to check out some of my miscellaneous arcana fic there if you liked this!! i love talking about headcanons and fan apprentices too i'm All Ears

Early mornings have never been your strong suit, but when Asra wakes up before the crack of dawn to prepare a fantastical breakfast, no force on earth short of Asra himself can keep you in bed. This is one of those mornings.

Bare feet swinging idly, the icy cold of the countertop bites into your thighs. You set down your mug and tuck your hands beneath you as a protective layer, warm from the tea Asra handed you when you woke up. Asra sets another pot of water on to boil, bending over to whisper his thanks to the salamander in the stove, before working his way over to you and placing his hands at your waist.

"Have you washed your hands since cracking those eggs?" Your tone is teasing, but Asra scoffs.

"What does it matter if I didn't," Asra deadpans, and you squeal, pushing at his forearms. He laughs, voice like wind chimes, and rests his forehead against yours. "Relax, of course I washed them. What kind of chef do you take me for?"

"The grubby kind," you mumble against his nose. Then, your own nose perking up at the slight odor of burning, you add, "Speaking of eggs, you might want to check that."

Asra pulls away from you reluctantly and scrambles to move the egg to a plate already piled high with breakfast food.

"Have you cooked enough yet? Are we having guests you didn't tell me about?" With his back still turned to you, Asra shakes his head. "Then what _is_ all this? Did something special happen?"

"Ah, I suppose you could say that," Asra replies, and you can hear the soft smile in his voice.

"Do share," you reply, crossing your legs and resting an elbow there, propping up your chin on your fist.

"I woke up this morning with you beside me."

"Is that all?"

"For the thousandth time, I was flooded with adoration and love for you." Asra quirks a brow at you over his shoulder. "Do you think that isn't enough?"

"So this is a milestone celebration of sorts," you tease.

"If that explanation satisfies you."

Asra sets the plate on your lap at long last, then quickly pours tea for you once more before returning. The food is delicious -- Asra is content to steal bites of meat and bread from your plate and lean against the counter beside you, watching as you scarf down portion after portion.

"And you thought I made too much food." Asra takes the plate from you after you stuff the last roll of bread into your mouth, and sets it to the side. "I could cook a meal fit for the Masquerade and you'd finish it in one sitting."

Wincing as you swallow your mouthful, you shrug, and Asra steps into your space once more. With the knuckle of his index finger, Asra brushes a crumb from your lower lip. His hands cup your face and bring your foreheads together once more. You gaze at him through your eyelashes for a moment before leaning in to kiss him.

Asra tastes fruity, herbal, like the teas he makes when your worries overwhelm you. Tension in your shoulders you hadn't even realized you were carrying falls away as Asra's right hand falls to your hip and then lower, slipping under the barely-there fabric of your skirt to grip your thigh.

Your legs, already open enough for Asra to lean against the counter in front of you, spread further, and you push into Asra's touch encouragingly. His hand moves again, cautiously sliding your undergarments down until they fall to your ankles, where you kick them thoughtlessly to the floor. His palm rests over your entrance with his thumb rubbing small circles over your clit. You moan into his mouth, breath escaping you all at once, which Asra takes as encouragement to move faster. He presses his index finger inside of you slowly, until the second digit, and crooks it barely. 

"Asra-" you gasp his name against his lips, and he breaks the kiss completely. Gasping for breath, you all but sob at the loss of Asra's mouth, hardly noticing as he kneels before you until the press of his tongue is evident between your legs.

Asra’s finger withdraws from inside you, drawing a piteous whine from the back of your throat, and he teases painfully slowly across your entrance with the tip of his tongue. You gasp, back curving to press yourself into his touch. He peers up at you, eyes lidded, as he takes the finger into his mouth. His eyes flutter shut as if savoring the taste, and he drags the finger out slowly from between his lips, which he leaves glistening wet -- from his saliva or your own slick, you aren't sure.

His tongue finds its way back to your entrance, hands kneading your thighs softly, and he kisses there tenderly, the warmth of his breath in contrast to the crisp morning air sending shivers through your spine.

You tangle your fingers in the bedhead he hadn't bothered to tame, moaning weakly as his fingertips grip your ass, burying his face more firmly between your thighs. His lips meet your clit, tonguing sloppily over it, and you gasp at the wet sensation as he presses the tips of two fingers at your entrance. You writhe in an attempt to buck your hips forward, barely possible with the friction of the countertop beneath you, and Asra’s fingers press inside of you softly, slowly. 

“Say my name,” Asra murmurs, lips brushing over your skin, breath hot against you. He continues to lap at you eagerly, an enthusiasm not remotely paralleled by his cruel fingers, which only curve back and forth at the slowest and most sickly sweet pace.

“ _Asra_ ,” you cry out, shoulders rolling back and eyes falling shut under his tongue’s ministrations. “Please, I'm so close-”

His fingers crook more sharply all of a sudden, and your breath hitches. You can feel Asra’s smile between your legs as he continues to press his fingers as far inside of you as they can go. He drags your clit between his teeth gently and curves his fingers mercilessly, and your body convulses with pleasure, orgasm cascading over you.

You collapse back against the wall, breathing heavily. Standing with a smile, Asra pulls you into his arms. He kisses you, delicate, the taste of you heavy on his soft lips. 

“You'd better go clean yourself up,” Asra says as the kiss dissolves, sunlight from the little window streaming in to light up his face. “It's almost time to open up shop.”

Smiling, you kiss his jaw. “You won't let me repay you?”

“Ah, _that_ is what lunch breaks are for.” Asra presses a kiss to your nose and steps back, gesturing towards your room. “Off you go.”

With a faux-irritated roll of your eyes, you hop down from the counter and grab your discarded undergarments from the floor. You head back to the room to change, imagination hard at work to plan your payback.


End file.
